


Goodnight, Supermen

by Kyntha



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Implied Relationships, Insomnia, Korean War, Sad, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyntha/pseuds/Kyntha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of Henry Blake, Radar can't sleep.  He copes the only way he knows how.<br/>Implied references to Henry Blake's and Radar's Uncle Ed's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight, Supermen

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Inspired by the end scene of Rainbow Bridge s3e2.

_“Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.” David Ogden Stiers_

There were no more tears that could be cried over Henry Blake tonight. He’d read his newest Captain America comic three times through. And Klinger had stopped in for a moment to warm himself by the small stove before continuing his guard duty shift. Yet Radar still could not go to sleep. His Army issue watch read midnight. He set his teddy bear carefully on the bed, slid his feet into his slippers, pulled his wool cap over his head, and padded through the doors into Post-Op. 

Sometimes when he couldn’t sleep, Hawkeye, Trapper or one of the nurses would keep him company for a few minutes. Occasionally there’d be a recovering soldier still awake he could talk to. He liked talking to the other men that came through the 4077th. He liked hearing about where they were from and what kinds of things they did back home. 

Tonight he found Nurse Able sitting at the desk asleep with her chin resting on her chest, her writing hand paused mid-word in a chart. Radar couldn’t imagine it felt comfortable so he eased her forward so that her cheek rested against the wood and the crook of her elbow. Walking through the ward, he spotted Hawkeye snoring on an empty bed with his boots and lab coat still on. The young soldier pulled the wool blanket at the end of the bed up to Hawkeye’s chest. “Sleep well, Sir.” He whispered. 

None of the patients were awake, so Radar wandered out to the compound to use the latrine before heading back to bed. Klinger was sitting on an oil drum dozing. Radar wrapped Klinger’s genuine faux fox fur stole further around the older man’s neck before continuing on.

A few days later a kid came in from Illinois - Peoria, Radar thought he’d read. He wanted to visit to the kid, but he was afraid the kid would talk about some of the same things Colonel Blake had. The thoughts kept him awake enough one night Rader finally decided to take another nighttime stroll through Post-Op. Trapper and Bigalow were on duty. Bigalow was asleep sitting up on a chair near the wall. Trapper was filling out a chart at the desk. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, kid?” Trapper asked quietly. 

“I was wondering if that kid from Illinois was still awake.” Radar said. “You know, the one with the stomach wound. I thought he might like a friendly face and I brought...” he showed the comic book in his hand.

“Who, Hoskins?” Trapper responded almost understanding. “Yeah, he’s over there in the last bed. Just keep it down, will ya.”

When Radar finished talking to Hoskins a half hour later (turned out he had family near Ottumwa), the doctor had drifted off to sleep at the desk. Radar draped Trapper’s jacket over his back and a blanket over Bigalow’s lap, then passed through the office out to the latrine. He thought he might stop by the SWAMP on the way back to see if Hawkeye were awake. The camp was silent, save for some frantic whispering and an annoyed “Frank!” coming from Major Houlihan's tent. 

At the SWAMP, Captain Pierce made a small agreeable noise when Radar knocked on the door, so he went in. Hawkeye, however, had gone to sleep sitting up on his bunk with a martini in one hand and his latest copy of _Nudist Weekly_ slipping out of his fingers to the floor. Hawkeye still wore his boots. Radar slipped them off his feet and pulled a blanket over the sleeping doctor. He set the martini glass on the shelf next to the still and laid the magazine on the chair. “Thanks, Dad.” Hawkeye mumbled in his sleep. 

Radar whispered back “Goodnight, Superman.”

“Halt!” Klinger stopped the corporal on his return trip to the office.

“Geez, Klinger! It’s just me.” Radar announced, slightly startled. Then, calmer, “Come in to the office to warm up a little. It’s gettin’ cold out here.”

“Nah...I’m good. But I could use a cigar. They’re in the box with my white gloves. You wouldn’t go get one for me, would ya?”

“Sure thing, buddy.” Radar walked back across the compound to Klinger’s tent in search of cigars.

After a third night of midnight wanderings, checking on the mostly unwilling residents of the 4077th, Radar found he couldn’t sleep until he’d made a trip through camp. He nearly always started in Post-Op speaking to a nurse or one of the doctors or momentarily comforting a wounded soldier who was still awake. Major Burns often chased him out, but it didn’t stop him from walking through. He hoped Major Burns found some comfort in his visits anyway.

A trip to the SWAMP was next, saying goodnight to Trapper or Hawkeye or both. Sometimes they were up drinking and telling stories or playing cards. Sometimes one was off with a nurse somewhere. After Trapper went home and BJ replaced him, at first BJ could often be found writing to his wife back home. Once he was crying into his pillow. Hawkeye was on duty and Radar had heard Major Burns’ high pitched whispering coming from Major Houlihan’s tent. Radar just sat silently on the chair near BJ’s cot until he heard gasps for air turn to the shallow breath of sleep.

Long after Major Burns had been sent home, and it was now Major Winchester brusquely dismissing him from Post-Op, Radar heard moans and a scream coming from Major Houlihan’s tent. Without thinking, he ran into the tent to find her thrashing on the bed in her sleep. “Major Houlihan, Ma’am, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.” The gentle shake woke the Major who was immediately folded into Radar’s arms. “It’s okay, Ma’am. Just a bad dream.” Radar knew Major Houlihan would have every right to throw him out of her tent, but instead she allowed the boy to hold her until the shaking stopped. He poured her a glass of water and helped her straighten her covers, then slipped out in the still night. 

The next morning the hard as brass Major approached Radar in the chow line. “Corporal,” she whispered, “Thanks for the comfort last night.”

Radar stared at the woman with wide eyes for a brief moment before stating “Don’t mention it. Really. I could get in a lot of trouble for goin’ into an officer’s quarters, especially a ma’am’s, Ma’am. ” The hint of a quiet smile played on his lips so quickly Margaret almost missed it. But although Radar woke Margaret out of nightmares more than once, that was the only time the two spoke of it.

At first he dared not enter the nurses’ tent, but one night he heard crying. He stood shivering with uncertainty outside the door, debating with himself. Finally he pulled the door open to find Nurse Kellye sitting on the edge of her bed, tears running down her cheeks. They stared at each other for a long moment before Radar whispered, “It’s okay, now. I just came in to check on you.” as though he were speaking to a frightened animal. He inched forward until he sat beside her on the cot. He was quite fond of Kellye. He liked when they danced together in the Officer’s Club she would take the lead because he was too shy to do so. Watching her cry, though, he felt like the brave one and carefully wrapped his arms around her. Kellye collapsed into Radar’s chest sobbing. It didn’t matter what Kellye was sobbing for. Nearly everyone in the unit had their moments occasionally. Radar simply held the dark haired nurse and whispered reassuring words until she found calm. Before he left, he brushed a chaste kiss goodnight in her hairline.

Colonel Potter’s tent always felt off limits to Radar unless it were an emergency. Even then, he often felt uncomfortable, as though he had no right to be there. Sometimes, early on, when he missed Henry the most, he even felt Colonel Potter had no right to be there. It was, after all, Henry’s tent before it was Colonel Potter’s. Nonetheless, Radar stood outside the door silently wishing the older man a good-night. Often the light was still on and he could see still shadows across the canvas. He figured Colonel Potter was reading one of his Zane Grey novels or catching up on a medical journal. “Oh, Radar...” the commanding officer called after about 3 months of silent devotion. Radar entered the tent reluctantly.

“You’re going to stop lurking in the dark and knock eventually aren’t you, son?” the Colonel asked gently.

“Well, you see, sir, I just, uhm...” Radar shuffled his feet in the dust on the floor and trailed off not knowing how to explain.

The Colonel nodded. “It’s quite alright, son. Any time my light is on, you can come tell me good-night. Might be a good reminder to me not to read all night and get a little shut eye.” Radar smiled and noticed the light when out as he shut the tent door behind him.

One night after he’d told Colonel Potter good-night and ensured the light turned off in his tent, Radar spotted a flickering glow coming from the VIP tent. Fearing fire, he pulled the door open and entered. The bare chest and one bare leg of Father Mulcahy asleep and tangled in the covers greeted him in pale candlelight. Radar gulped and was glad he hadn’t alerted Klinger before investigating. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed the black haired man curled against the father’s back. He blinked several times, startled at the sight, before finally deciding even Father Mulcahy needed the comfort other another person now and again. “Father,” Radar shook the sandy haired man. Comfort or not, the two men could not be found in this position. It’d mean blue slips for certain. When the priest woke, Radar whispered urgently to him, “Father, you two need to get dressed and get back to your own tents before someone catches you!” Father Mulcahy mumbled something apologetic before reaching for his pants and waking Hawkeye still asleep behind him.

Wounded came with the morning, but after their shifts the hospital, Father Mulcahy approached the young clerk, turning his Panama hat in his hands. “Radar, Hawkeye and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention what you, er...our...indiscretion last night.” They were standing in the clerk’s office while Radar filed reports on the new patients.

He looked up from the file, _Johnson, Joseph, Private_ and peered over his glasses. “Father, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Father Mulcahy smiled stiffly. “Oh, but Father...If you put the soiled linens with the ones in Post-Op, no one will know where they came from. They’ll just get cycled back to the supply tent.”

“Bless you, my son.” The priest murmured.

Radar’s last journey through the camp came not at midnight, but rather mid-afternoon. A party had been arranged in his honor, and even with the gut-aching thought that he would never see his Uncle Ed again, he looked forward to the party and to trip home. When the party was cut short by _“Attention. All personnel! Incoming wounded. Choppers on the upper and lower pads!”_ folks hurriedly told Radar their goodbyes before rushing off to their duty stations. He helped a few soldiers to Pre-Op before Colonel Potter kicked him out before he got his Class A’s blood stained, or worse, missed his transport to Kimpo. With everyone on duty in the hospital, Radar walked through the quiet compound. 

He swiped a finger across the icing of the otherwise untouched cake baked in his honor. Igor didn’t do half bad with it this time around. He stood in the nurses’ tent, breathing in their soft scent before putting a chocolate bar on each of their pillow. Radar then stopped in Major Houlihan’s tent briefly, feeling strange standing in her quarters in the daylight. He left her a small bouquet of wildflowers from the minefield. In Klinger’s tent he tucked a silk handkerchief he’d picked up on Seoul for his mother into the box with his gloves. It was part of a set, and he knew his mother would appreciate the other two just the same. He’d bribed a few people for a bottle of Scotch for Colonel Potter, which he set on the man’s desk.

Radar hadn’t been sure what to give Father Mulcahy, so he inserted ten dollars inside the Father’s Bible with a note that said “For the orphans.” Even though he had gifts for Peg and Erin in his bag to deliver personally in San Francisco, he placed a Korean doll for Erin on BJ’s bunk that BJ could send himself. After leaving his teddy on Hawkeye’s bunk, Radar stood in the SWAMP imagining all the jokes, conversations, late night poker games, and barters for illicit goods that would happen without him. 

The jeep commissioned to drive him to Kimpo honked a horn. Radar motioned to the driver “One minute.” before turning back to the OR one final time. Hawkeye caught his eye through the window of the dividing doors and held it for a long moment. Radar saluted before turning away.

The realization that like it or not, these people were his family, his brothers and sisters, and fathers and mothers, sons and daughters hit Radar hard. Caring for these people in the only way he knew how in this olive drab hell hole was what had kept him sane the last two years. He wondered who would care for them now.

“Alright.” Radar told the driver of the jeep. “Let’s go.”


End file.
